No offense or disrespect to The Rolling Stones, Steely Dan, The Who, Chicago, Kenny Rodgers, Joni Mitchell, Jimmy Buffet or Crosby, Still, Nash and whoever, but it is time.  You’ve had your heyday.  You’ve made your money.  Now, go away.

Still have the desire to perform?  That is why they invented Vegas.  Or Branson.

Otherwise, move out of the spotlight, and let someone else have a chance.

Oh, sure, I acknowledge that you have been contributors to the world of music.  As singers, and songwriters, and musicians, and rockers you brought your sound to the masses and influenced pop culture and ingrained our brains with your riffs and lyrics.  Your music will live in the hearts and minds of many generations.  Thank you and bye-bye.

Maybe you think I sound harsh, but think about it?  Imagine if the previous generation of musical talent kept trying to keep performing in a big way at major awards shows, sporting events, on tour, and on television.Oh yeah – they did.  Remember the late days of Elvis or Frank?  Sad, sad, ugly, and sad.  They worked past-their-prime, trying to hold on to their young musical glory, and it didn’t work.  Hello – It ain’t working for you anymore, either.

For that matter, go away “Play that Funky Music, White Boy”, “Celebration”, “We are Family”, “Mustang Sally”, “Freebird”, “Brick House” and “Sweet Home Alabama”.  It is time to stop you and all of your cover band and wedding reception over-played power.

It is my contention that the past stands in the way of the future.  It is too convenient to dance to the music you’ve been hearing forever and it is regressive to sing along at concerts of artists who had their heyday before you were born.

Sure, it is fine to reminisce once-in-a-while; even I sing along to The Beatles. And, maybe you qualify as  quirky-cool because your ringtone is an obscure Marvin Gaye B-side.  But, why spend hundreds of dollars to go to concerts performed by people who need to get themselves jacked up on anti-inflammatories just to take the stage?  And, why are those same people still making crazy money to sing songs about their sexy youth, when “sexy” and “youth” have been replaced with “wrinkled” and “old”?  If we fill our lives with only the songs we know, we are forced to look backwards and are missing the view ahead.

I know, I know – the past is comfortable.  It feels more real because you’ve already experienced it.  It is as grounding and familiar as those ratty sweatpants you refuse to throw away.  It is like making out with an old boyfriend or girlfriend again.  You know just what to do to make them feel good.  Play “American Pie” and everyone relaxes.

You are trampling the road more traveled, and it is making you soft.

What happened to established artists gracefully aging and mentoring the next generation’s creativity, instead of competing with it?  Why do we continue to demand the stuff we know, instead of striving to experience something new?  We should cry out for the future, instead of sentimentally weeping for the past.

It is time to put down your high-school facebook, I mean, yearbook and move forward. Rock stars prefer to burn out than fade away; it is time for the faded old burn-outs to go away.

Let’s advance things, shall we? Listen to a new song, a new band, or a new artist, today.  Dance to something you’ve never heard before, tonight.  Let’s change the demand for music, right now, and we’ll change the future of music, for the better.

~pp

< Be now in the now.  Listen to TSF9: We’re Next, We’re Now The Slacker Factor Podcast here, or on iTunes. >

I think I suffer from the same malady many of us face today.  Time.  Its like a drug.  There isn’t enough of it, I’ve lost track of it, is it the right time, its running out, I cant afford it, and I am wasting it.  You get the point.

Now, none of this is new to most of us.  Every once in a while we look in the mirror but don’t see that 18yr old that we imagine we still look like.  Full of youth and vigor and lacking the lines and gray hairs we see today.  But I can deal with getting older, I really don’t have a problem with it.  What I do have a problem with is that I am not doing all of the things I always envisioned I would have done by now.  That’s not to say I won’t, its just…  I am a bit off schedule.  This is my problem.

I wont bore you with the laundry list of things I thought I would have done by now, but many of them are typical… seeing Europe, sailing the Caribbean, having that corner office, stuff like that.  I don’t think it’s because I’m not capable of doing these things, but haven’t had the time to really devote to getting to them.  Stuff keeps happening and it’s never the right time.

Perhaps it’s the trade offs I’ve made over time.  When I was younger I really wasn’t able to comprehend the impact parenthood would have on my life.  Its all good stuff, I just didn’t know how much of a priority it would become to ensure my kids have the best I can give them.  So I’ve traded my vacations to the Caribbean for vacations to Sesame Street Place and the like.  I’m ok with that too, but I still have “my” stuff to do.

So, for “my” stuff, call it my “bucket list” if you like, I wonder when I will find the time.  My kids are still young and I don’t have the financial wherewithal to pack up the whole family and go to Europe for two weeks.  And we all know that won’t fly with the boss anyway – two weeks off – in a row???.  Maybe what I need to do with my time is try and schedule it.  Maybe if I start to plan on the lower hanging fruit of my goals for now and hope for the best down the road.  But…

What if I am running out of time?  Jeeze that’s a gloomy thought.  Here I am, only 40, and wondering about a final nap on the big couch.  Well, I am hoping that I live for another 40 (or longer if the big guy allows) and that gives me a fair amount of time to get to the bigger things on the list, and maybe by then I will be in a better financial position to take on the larger trips.  Maybe I’ll even be retired before I’m 75 and have a time where I wont be trying to vacation with one foot in the sand and another strapped to my blackberry.    Which brings me to my last point…

This whole indentured servitude to Corporate America, am I wasting my time?  I am trading my time so that the corporate fat-cats can have their fancy dinners and be driven to and fro and fly first class etc etc?  Is my time worth only the paycheck I receive, and to cause me to put off the things I would really rather be doing?  Will I wake up when I’m 65 and wonder why the hell I spent the last 40yrs working in Corporate America??  That scares me.  That seriously scares me… a lot.  Of course, when I look at my kids I know that the sacrifice is all worth it.  If I would trade my soul to the devil to ensure my kids happiness, surely selling it to Corporate America couldn’t be all that much worse.  Could it?

Well, my time is up.  I appreciate your giving me some of yours.  And until next time…  ~cg

Is it OK if they frequently fight,
Is it OK if the bride wears white,
…even if she has a couple of children…

It is OK if she has fake breasts,
and yet her kids are an incredible mess
because she claims they never have any money…

Is it OK if he professes to be true,
but you know that he has propositioned you
…on more than one occasion…

Is it OK for Nick Cage?

Is it OK if he wears a rug,
Is it OK if she’s planted a bug
in their computer,
so she can track all of his online activities…

Is it OK if they seldom fuck,
Is it OK if he tries his luck,
at the casino…with the deposit money for their new home
…and he looses it all…

Is it OK if she swears she’s quit,
but then, occasionally, she takes a hit
just to keep her sane…

Is it OK if she has a drink,
even though you tend to think
she’s pregnant at the time,
…never mind who’s it is…

 Is it OK if he roams the night,
because he says that he’s uptight,
and getting out
is the only thing
that calms him down…

Is it OK if they talk so sweet,
when you really know that underneath
neither of them is happy
in this thing, called a relationship, anymore…

~pp

<Don’t be hypocritical.  Listen, as well as read,  TSF7: Drop Everything  or look for it on iTunes.  It is slacktacular.>

The "Smells Like Teen Spirit" Single Artwork

Considering The Slacker Factor is a podcast and webspace targeted directly at Generation X, whose musical apex is squarely planted in early 90s grunge, what I’m about to say will no doubt offend some and may even be considered downright sacrilegious. So, let me just come right out and say it…

I never need to hear Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” again. That’s right, the GenX anthem that epitomizes all things slacker is not aging well in my eyes. In fact, the second I hear those opening power chords, I instinctually reach for the dial or digital preset button to find just about anything else (within reason, of course… I’m not about to choose any American Idol reject over the voice of our generation (I think, anyway).

It’s not really Kurt’s fault though. In 1991, when Nevermind was released unto the unsuspecting public, it was all I needed to puff out my chest and get all angsty. After all, this was the theme song to many a drunken slam dance, late night rally to plan our world domination, or solo introspective moment. But just three years later, after Kurt Cobain’s untimely death in 1994, the song sank into nostalgia. Hearing it then, we’d take a second to imagine what could of been, what still might be, and what contributions our generation was making (or not making) to the world. But now, it’s lost all that sense of nostalgia, emotional connection, and is just plain tired.

I blame radio. I’ve just heard it too many damn times. Back in the day when “alternative music” really started to affect the mainstream population, it felt like Generation X was poised to bring slacker culture to the whole world. You could tune into just about any radio station format – from “Modern Rock” to “Top 40″ and hear the evidence of how deep “Teen Spirit” had penetrated society. The video was aired every 10 minutes on MTV, which meant you couldn’t escape it no matter where you were. It was ubiquitous angst. But, there is a fixed limit on many times you can repeatedly feel those strong emotions when a song comes on. There are only so many times that that melody, those driving drums, that distorted guitar, and the gruff vocals can penetrate your heart.

Unfortunately, I think this fall from grace is inevitable. Just think of all that cutting edge rock and roll from the 60s and 70s – Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Jimmy Hendrix, The Doors. They changed the face of music and lead a cultural revolution. But now, 40 years later, the whole genre is relegated to the dusty corners of the radio, ipods, and vinyl albums with not a record player in sight. And I’m sure that even our parents, who were there for the birth of “freedom rock”, aren’t going out and getting stoned, practicing free love and “imagining world peace”, when “Dazed and Confused” makes it’s 55 thousand, 227th appearance in their ears.

So, by no means am I debasing or marginalizing “Smells Like Teen Sprit.” I just don’t think there is any way to avoid this slide into staleness. Music should always evoke that same passion we all felt in 1991. And if the songs of our youth are no longer able to arouse those feelings, maybe we should move on and explore new music that sing about our current struggles like, I don’t know, the trappings of corporate America, the unending demands on our time from the kids and their all-encompassing social lives to the responsibilities of supporting household in a down economy, the unpaid bills and the fears of being trivialized as a generation. Actually that sounds like god-awful music. So barring that, maybe we can at least tap into some of Nirvana’s deeper album cuts or smaller hits yet still amazing songs like “All Apologies” or “Rape Me.” Or maybe I’ll just go listen to Pearl Jam instead – at least they’re still putting out new music.

- Robert LaFrance

Through history people have paid tribute to those who affected them most.  In the past it was high placed political powers such as monarchs or statesmen,  but since the advent of television this adoration has broadened to include celebrities.  The availability of electronic media provided a platform but tabloids and the internet brought it to extreme levels.

When Elvis died it was obviously a big story and deserved “news” coverage.  The same can be said for John Lennon, Michael Jackson, etc largely in part to their untimely deaths.  But where does the media draw the line as to what is worth “breaking news coverage”?  Are D list celebrities worthy of such coverage.  Do we need to know that a Reality TV contestant died?  Or a TV shill?  Where is the line drawn?  Do we need a cable station devoted to death much like the Weather Channel?

There is a morbid curiosity we all share whether we want to admit it or not.  We see it every day with the traffic jams caused by an accident.  So many people trying to get a glimpse of the victim.  Some of us from the corner of our eye and others shamelessly craning their necks.  Some read the obituaries to see who we may know who have died.  Others reading for the tragedy of someone taken too soon.  Is celebrity death that same morbid curiosity magnified?  Perhaps it’s because, while we somehow share celebrities and feel a strange attachment, though they really are detached.  We may feel some sense of loss, but certainly not as we would with a friend or family member.  Its different.  Its more akin to reading a book or watching a movie where the protagonist dies tragically at the end, or maybe goes out in flames while giving his middle finger to the establishment.  Or maybe its deeper than that and somehow through their loss we gain more appreciation of our lives?

Perhaps in death it’s that celebrities’ last bit of entertainment they are giving to the public.   Their last chance on the stage.  But even then, do we let them rest in peace?  With the family fights over recording or movie rights or new release of unseen footage.   The answer is sadly no.

The interest in celebrity death even goes so far as to have hoax’s emailed out with some elaborate story about how the celebrity died in some dramatic, often implausible, fashion.  How many celebrity (usually B list) death hoax’s went out around the same time as Michael Jacksons death was announced?  I guess we can thank the internet for that.  I don’t imagine that the same happened when Elvis died.  Although the closest thing at that time, the National Enquirer, did sell 8 million copies of an issue that featured a cover shot of Elvis Presley in a coffin.

I am honored that you are even listening to me, listening to us, at this moment.  Alright – maybe “honored” is a little thick.  I’m more like surprised and impressed – in a good way. Hey – I know what it took for you to get here.  Booting up things, clicking around places, having to pay attention, downloading stuff, maybe.  All of that is work.  Really, and I know you have better choices than anything that even resembles work.  You could be half-passed-out on the living room couch right now, test-tasting the snacky things that your kid dropped between the cushions, drooling a little.  That would be easier; but instead, you’re here.  Well, maybe you’re both.  Anyway, if you are here, then you, my friend, qualify as a slacker.  THAT is why I am honored.  Thank you, fellow Slacker, for listening.

Slackers, like me and Chris(tian) and Rob and you, are not incapable of doing stuff.  We are actually really capable, and we actually do stuff. It is just that, when given the choice, most times we’d rather not.  Well, that isn’t totally true – we like to do the stuff we like to do, just not the stuff we’re supposed to do, or stuff we have to do, or stuff that sucks.

I find myself in total, almost constant, conflict.  Do I do the laundry, or surf the web for strange pets-in-costume photos?  It is important that I visit my parents and help them take out the their garbage, but just one more episode of Anthony Bourdain’s snarky world-travel show can’t hurt,  and then, I’m out the door – I promise.  Believe me, besides you, I am the least-disciplined person you know.

The place where my slacker-factor has the most negative impact is in the area of EXERCISE.  Can you relate, you couch-loving snack-forager?  Even the word sucks – ex-er-size.  It sounds like an awkward and uncomfortable way to cancel out the beautiful size of me.  I suppose that that is the point, but does it have to sound so dorky?  “I’m going to exercise.”  Sure…some people call it “working out”, but that involves WORK, and I’m not into that.

I suppose if you could exercise an actually look cool, which you can’t, or maybe if you could hang out with Henry Rollins or Iggy Pop at the gym, which you can’t, maybe it would be appealing.  But Rollins and Iggy are like the anti-slackers, and that would bring up so much additional guilt…forget it.

So, how does a slacker survive in this responsibility-filled, money-oriented, you-gotta-work society?  Often, in a bitter, and begrudging way.  Really, we seek out other slackers who can bring things to the table to assist our lazy-asses. Who wants to reinvent the wheel, when some other guy is into sharing his wheels with his friends?  The network of slackers is huge, and we’ll bring it to you, when we’re motivated.  We wanna help you, friend, enjoy the moments of your life, with minimal effort.  Let’s use this networking and technology crap to ease the pains of your intended efforts and relieve you from the toils of your existence.

~pp

<Hear this amazing rant, as well as other nonsense, on the podcast TSF4: Mary’s Gone Slackers, is NOW ONLINE!>

Do we stop appreciating new music after a certain age? AKA Why does all new music suck?  Recently re-titled as “Has the now effortless pursuit of new music changed music’s value aka why new music is almost free!”

I long for new music.  I easily fall into the media hype of some groundbreaking young band and seek out any and all of their recordings.  I have been known to incessantly fight the busy signal of a radio station’s request line in order to ask the DJ the name of the song that was played exactly 27.5 minutes ago.  I’ve then called the foreign-based record label to find a local retailer that might actually carry said music.  In my eternal quest for the new and different, I’ve canvassed my hip friends for suggestions, begrudgingly tuned in local college radio, combed the billboard charts, made purchases based solely on the esoteric words of a music journalist, I’ve dragged my classy, sophisticated girlfriend (now wife) through the rough and tubmble streets of Greenwich Village, New York City to seek out musty old music shops that carry used records and spend hours flipping through bins of dusty vinyl – only with the promise of returning the favor by agreeing to window shop at Tiffany’s on 5th Avenue, subscribed to new music CD services (remember CMJ?), provided false names to both the Columbia and BMG music clubs… even purchased random CDs based solely on the cover art or some annoyingly pretentious record store clerk.

But, that was a long time ago and much has changed in my life…

…- marriage, kids, responsibilities, and… the arrival of the internet.  While all those things are very positive (except the responsibilities of course), they’ve forced a sea change in my pursuit of, and perspective on, good music.

First, let’s talk about the pursuit…  It used to be a monumental task – almost a life mission.  With none of this newfangled super highway technology available, the search would be an exercise in persistence and patience (not my strong point) and eminently rewarding.  There was nothing like cracking the seal on a excessively expensive out-of-print LP or 12 inch record (yes, vinyl) that was meticulously shipped across oceans to my tender embrace.  Now it’s almost effortless – services like Pandora, Last.FM, and online radio take a direct feed from your heat and mind and occasionally spit out new tunes that you’ve never heard but can’t imagine you ever lived without.  Then, simply logon to iTunes, Walmart, or Beatport for underground dance music and instantaneously own the music of your dreams.  Sounds great right?  But, if something comes too easily its not valued.  And somehow, it all got kind of boring.

And that’s why I think my perspective has changed.  The new albums by American Idol reject Daughtry or the hipster band the Fray (and countless other modern “alternative” bands) just don’t hold the same charm, emotional bond, or depth.  Maybe I’m getting all old, bitter, and nostalgic but I just don’t seem to be able to find spanking new stuff that floats my boat.  And, I don’t like it one bit.  I don’t want to turn into one of those past-their-prime mullet-wearing aging classic rockers jonesing to hear that dumb Steve Miller song where the guitar line feigns a construction worker’s whistle at a scantily clad female.  Or worse, one of those hippies that’s balding on top but keeps his hair long on the sides and back so he can try to score some weed at the latest jam band summer festival.  But, I do often catch myself throwing on to my old Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, and Radiohead CDs for lack of better options. And now that alternative is the new classic rock, I am frightened of becoming all that I’ve sworn off.  Maybe I’ll cut my bangs and stop wear black.  But better yet… maybe there’s hope in some heretofore unknown group of teenagers with sonic sensibilities that evoke the same passion, purity and pursuit of perfection that mirrors the bands of our youth.

So, new music, I’m beggin you… make yourself hard to find and worth the effort.  For the sake of all of mankind!

~ rl

<If you were listening to crappy music instead of TSF 3: Frustrated Pleasures, feel free to listen or download now or subscribe on iTunes.  Please?>

When we were kids, it was all about the tape.  The shift of melody and voices from vinyl to magnetic-coated plastic took rhythm and word from inside to outside.

Tape gave us freedom.  No longer were we limited to music on record players in badly-paneled living rooms, plaid decorated bed rooms, or from the all-too-moist carpeted rec rooms that once were called basements.

Tape liberated us from just listening to the radio.  Now, we could pick music on the go. We brought our collective groove to the streets…
…Eight track tape put professionally recorded music into cars, and cassette tape let us mash together all of the stuff, including our own voices and music, for everyone to hear.

With tape, junior high boys who would never have the guts to write love notes could put together that perfect mix of songs – just enough lovey-dovey with just enough coolness – to entice that special someone to pay attention to them.  With tape, high school parties could happen anywhere, all you needed was a boombox, batteries, and beer.  With tape, would-be comedians could capture entertaining crank calls and launch a Jerky Boy empire.

Video tape moved it all up another notch. Instead of waiting a whole year for  “The Wizard of Oz” on ABC Disney family movie night, we had the power of tape. Empowered to watch munchkins while stoned and listening to “Dark Side of the Moon.”

Sure, tape was fragile and stretchy and heat sensitive. But it was also portable, shareable, giftable, tangible. We hung together with music, with movies, with tape. Scotch tape held all of it together when things got sliced or cracked, or when someone punched out that little plastic recording tab. 

In that fast forward way life moves, there are now tweets, status updates, the ability to share what is on your mind in an immediate, calculated way.  Packaged electronic social life that is allowing us to live with our friends without having to shower. To spend time with people without really paying attention. To filter out the stuff we deem lame. We edit our thoughts before we share them, and call people our friends, even if we haven’t seen them since junior high.

Our music, pictures, videos, and words are all carefully selected and manipulated to perpetuate our collective coolness.  No longer are we in the streets, instead we are in our headphones. Even when we actually do get together, we’re not really in the moment.  We’re anxious to connect with others, frantically checking our metal berries and ego phones for messages from someone more important than the someone’s we’re with. We’re using our thumbs to pull us away, more concerned with what is next than what is now. Our music is sharable only by permission or by wifi. Our gatherings now missing the raw innocence and fragility of the past.  It is all instant, now, immediate, distracting.  No tape required.

Is progress important? Certainly. Is progress regressive? Probably. In the struggle to move forward, we have to make sure we’re not leaving too much behind.

~pp

<Were you napping and missed TSF2: Well, At Least We Arent Napping?  Listen now at the link, above, or look for it on iTunes, Monsieur or Madam Laziness.>

Ok, lets start this with a look inward. I asked myself “self, what are you?” Once I started looking (and got past the initial chaos rattling around in my head) I realized that’s not such a simple question and a lot of what Generation X is, is what its not. You can’t put a box around Generation X and say oh, its all about grunge and apathy. Or look to movies like Reality Bites and Star Wars… because yes, whether you want to admit it or not YOU were effected by Star Wars and the Jedi bed sheets you had as a kid. Its not about that big hair you had, or gray hair now and looking at 40 as “not that old”. Its not about whether you are “corporate” or keeping it real. Its not about whether you live with someone you aren’t married to or whether you are now a responsible parent or not. Its not about whether you worry about how the lawn looks or whether you are “green”. I could go on for hours but the truth is, its not about a lot.

Now, once we admit to ourselves its not about a lot we have to look at that. Its not about a lot. Is that disaffection I smell? So what is it about? Well, its about our experiences. As a group of people who were born in the 60’s & 70’s we all have some similar experiences. We all went to grade school and suffered through the same lousy curriculum and some of us even picked up the “new math” along the way. But more importantly, in my humble opinion, its about the history we lived through and how we experienced those events.

As a child I remember our TV having 13 channels and even remember the day my father brought home a betamax and we watched Star Wars and Young Frankenstein in the comfort of our shag carpet home. We were the first generation of Sesame Street fans and the first generation exposed to the 24 hour news cycle CNN brought us. We lived through some seriously significant and historic events. As kids we saw Reagan shot and the Space Shuttle blown into pieces. We had MTV and Lollapalooza and Al Gore gave us the Internet.

As GenXers we’re considered flannel wearing slackers with no interests or motivation? Yes, I like my grunge and flannel. I miss Nirvana. I’m often cynical and definitely unmotivated at times. I am without question anti-establishment and definitely don’t want to take any crap from Baby Boomers. Oooh they make me so mad with their rules and expectations! Are they all retired yet?? And Generation Y?? Come on.

So, now what? Well, we’re all at an age where responsibility rears its ugly head and keeps us from partaking in the indiscretions of our youth which we would otherwise jump head first in. We are pressured to act as adults but still feel like 16. Should we portrait ourselves as role models to our kids or nieces and nephews or whoever, when we know deep down we did the all the stuff the generation before us warned about and would probably do it again if we could get away with it. Generation X doesn’t play by the rules, so should we tell others to? Heck no. We are anti-establishment! Fight the man! Unless of course that is going to take a lot of effort, because then I’m not so into it. I think this is what Generation X is.

Oh, and by the way… Barak Obama is a Gen Xer. But then again, so is Woody Harrelson. Take from that what you will. ~cg

<Please give it a listen: TSF1: The Slacker Revolution Begins!>

So, did you ever have one of those days where you wake up and you don’t know what to do with yourself so you just lay in bed and stare up and think about how dust gets trapped on the ceiling, of all places, and how it is probably falling on you while you sleep and maybe that is why your hair is so dry and you flip on your computer-radio-TV and witness the same old blather-blather about pop star addictions, and lying politicians……and dying teenagers trapped in a desert half-way around the world and your mind starts to spin about how you wish you could make a difference and how most people are annoyingly indifferent and they’d rather unplug by watching the unreal world of reality TV than face the real realities of the living and all of the intensity of your disappointment makes you aggravated and stressed and you start to focus on your personal issues like unfinished projects and debt and weight and you think, just for a minute, about getting up paying your bills and working out, and then you remember your ratty sweatpants and your worn-out concert t-shirts and your hyper-extended credit cards and you’re unsure if you have any clean socks anyway so instead you visualize yourself working out confidently and you wonder why you’re not sculpting your beautiful body just though your ability to positively imagine yourself that way because that is what all the new age wonderfulness teaches – to imagine yourself in the reality you desire and create your own destiny, but you don’t have that kind of patience, and you feel angry that your mind-power has not made you and your world perfect and then more angry when your realize that the drool spot on your pillow is taking forever to evaporate and you don’t have the motivation or the energy to shift your body to relieve your shoulder tension, so you just watch that damn ceiling dust cascade into your hair.

~pp

The result of a creative exercise with some friends, this piece morphed into a spoken-word performance thing, and then into the opening slack piece.  The definition of myself reflects the definition of all of us.

<Listen to TSF0: The Episode before the Episode here>